Bride and Prejudice
by Nymphandora Tonks
Summary: Basically the whole movie of 'Bride and Prejudice' from Lalita's and Will's POV's. Some bits added. I suck at titles and summaries.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I watched this movie _way_ too many times and have too much free time these holidays, and here's the result. Please read and review!

---------------**One**---------------

Lalita Bakshi loved living on a farm. She loved everything about it: she would often go out in the fields and just breathe in the fresh air of her little home town, Amritsar.

Though her mother wanted the family to move to a big city in the US or UK, her father, a kind, normally easy-going man flatly refused to move. He and his four daughters all dearly loved their old house in a quaint town in India. As long as she could remember, Lalita had lived in their house, and she didn't want to move.

Lalita had just finished university, and had graduated with Masters in English, Art and Maths. Her older sister, Jaya, was one year older than her and had finished university as well. Her younger sisters, Maya and Lakshmi (everyone called her Lakhi) were twins, a year younger than her, still studying in uni. They did not look identical at all and were complete opposites in personality as well.

The trailer she was sitting on was connected to a tractor and she often visited the fields and helped out. She watched as workers began cutting away bits of the sea of green before her.

Lalita sighed happily. _I love living here,_ she thought.

-----

_India's… different,_ thought William Darcy, as he stepped out of the aeroplane, trying to maintain a positive outlook. He was in India with his best friend, Balraj and Balraj's sister, Kiran. Both were Indian, but had been brought up in England. Will himself had lived all his life in America with his mother and father alternately. As a result, he and his sister never really had a family home.

Anyway, the landscape before him was… crowded. His first impression was of people, lots of people, then his second impression was the sounds. There were many sounds: cows mooing, bells ringing, people walking and talking, the cries of salesmen calling out their wares, beggars asking for coins, hands held out. His third impression was of how hot it was: he was wearing a suit with a coat on top of his blazer and in this weather, it was stifling.

As he got in the black Jeep that would be their main mode of transport now, he removed his coat, but was not afforded much relief from the relentless heat.

He looked out of his window at the exotic scenery around him. It was rare to see a separate house; there were mostly apartments and units to save space and the shops around were crowded together. The shop signs themselves ranged from new to shabby and peeling, but all were crowded like the streets, shop names and wares both in English and some strange symbols. Will guessed that it was in Hindi, the nation's official language.

"Looks a bit like New York," he commented to Kiran, referring to the way everything was bunched together.

Kiran, who was sitting next to him in the car gave a short laugh. "Get used to it, Darcy," she said, surveying the view. "We'll be staying here for two weeks."

For a time, Will listened as Kiran and Balraj told him what to expect at the wedding they would be attending the next day. Balraj was the groom's best man, and he had invited Will along to wedding in an attempt to get him away from work for a while. Will had only agreed because his mother had wanted him to expand their business in hotels by buying some in India.

That was the reason he told Balraj, anyway. Actually, he wanted to get away from his mother for a bit. Lately, she had been trying to get him to go out with this rich girl from New York, Anne. He was sick and tired of her attempts at playing matchmaker. Anne was a nice enough girl and quite pretty and all, but she was shallow and didn't have enough brains to fill an eggcup. Will wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but he was sure of one thing: he didn't want his marriage to turn out like his parents', the ultimate business venture that went wrong. He wanted to marry someone he couldn't wait to see everyday.

He was jolted out of his reverie as the driver slammed the brakes on the Jeep. He leant out of the window to see what the problem was. He heard a few loud moos and saw two or three cows standing in the road. Nobody made any move to drive them out of it, and driver merely honked his horn and waited for them to disperse.

He laughed, surprised. "Jesus, Balraj, where the hell've you brought me?"

Balraj explained that in India, cows were considered sacred because of the Law of Manu, which was made in the fourth century AD. The Law stated that cows were holy animals because the Hindu god, Shiva's mount was a cow. Anybody who killed a cow would be hanged and anyone who harmed a cow would have to pay a fine. Even today, cows were considered sacred and nobody was allowed to be cruel to one, so that was why they wandered the streets freely.

Will nodded but didn't say anything. He accepted other beliefs but to him, cows were just dumb animals good for nothing but giving milk and meat. He was careful not to say any of this aloud, though. He didn't want to alienate his best friend on his first day in India.

They pulled into the driveway of the hotel they were staying in, the D.N. International. As Will walked up the stairs with Kiran and Balraj (the lift was out of order), he wondered what surprises India would bring.

-----

A/N: Well? Was that okay for a first chapter? Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Review!


	2. Chapter 2

---------------**Two**---------------

Lalita was putting on her earrings, getting ready for the wedding reception she was going to. It was her friend Namrata's wedding to a rich Indian guy from London. The groom had apparently looked at a lot of girls, but Namrata was the one he liked best. Namrata had confided in her and Chandra that she liked the groom and his family and was curious to see what London was like.

Lalita's mother smiled at the eldest daughter, Jaya. "I heard the famous Balraj from UK is looking for a girl as well," she said happily. "He's our only hope," she added more seriously. "If we do not get the eldest married first, we'll never be able to marry the rest of you for the shame!" Jaya rolled her eyes.

Lately, their mother had been worrying and bothering them to look at every Indian guy there was to see if he was an ideal groom. She wanted all her daughters to be married to rich men, so that they could support her when she got older. Lalita understood that, but why couldn't they earn money and look after her? Why did they have to be dependant on some rich guy?

Lalita rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Why does she think that every rich guy who comes to India must be shopping for a wife?"

Jaya, who heard her, giggled. "I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I hope he is," she said, referring to Balraj.

Lalita threw an amused look at her sister. "What, shopping, or loaded?"

Jaya laughed. "Both," she replied.

Lalita's mother bustled around, helping the various girls with their outfits, but stopped dead when she saw what the youngest (by two minutes), Lakhi was wearing.

"Lakhi, do you think your mother has gone crazy, that I'm going to let you wear _that?"_

For once, Lalita thought that her mother had a point. Lakhi was wearing an extremely revealing red outfit: the skirt was fine, it was like a normal dress, but the top covered barely more than a bra would. Lakhi adjusted and shifted it, looking in the mirror.

"But it's killing, Mama," she protested, fingering the red material, "it's what everyone's wearing in Mumbai!"

Their mother was adamant. "I want Balraj to look intoJeyes," she snapped, "not your cleavage!"

Maya said smugly, siding with their mother, "I told you, Lakhi, it's _very_ vulgar!"

Lalita sighed inwardly at the squabbles and put on the last touches of make-up for the reception.

-----

Will Darcy had _not _had a good day. It was now his second day in India, and they were on the way to the wedding reception of Balraj's friend. The previous day, the wireless internet receptors in the hotel had not worked properly, so he couldn't send his sister, Georgie, an email to say that he had arrived safely. Then when they had been eating dinner, the power had gone. The waiters apologized frequently and lit candles at every table. This was not _so _bad, but it happened again when Will was typing an email (the wireless had been fixed) and he hadn't saved it, so he had had to type it all again. Then the hotel's computer system crashed and hotel employees went around the rooms, collecting everyone's details again. It had been tedious, to say the least.

Right now, he was wearing an Indian outfit called a 'kurta': it was a white shirt with embroidered edges that went down about to his knees and white pants with a drawstring at the top. The shirt was okay except for a bit of gold wire from the embroidery that was making the back of his neck itch. The pants, however, were a whole different story. The drawstring kept coming undone and he had done it up about five times.

And they weren't even there yet.

-----

Lalita looked down from the balcony as the noise level rose up a notch. She followed peoples' eyes to the doorway, where a man of medium height and long curly black hair was accompanied by a girl with shorter curly black hair who looked like she might be his sister.

Behind them, looking a little lost amongst all the spice and colour that was an Indian wedding, was a man with brown hair and blue-green eyes, wearing a white kurta. His hair was too light and his skin too fair for him to be Indian, so Lalita guessed that he was William Darcy, Balraj's friend from Oxford. All of them were about Jaya's age.

Then she saw – to her mortification – her mother and Chandra's mother, Mrs Lamba, staring openly at Balraj and his friend and they definitely noticed. She looked away from the newcomers, feeling herself blush. Why did her mother have to be like that?

-----

Will nudged Balraj. "Good Lord," he muttered, "is it just me or is every woman over fifty in this place giving you the eye?"

Kiran snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Darcy," she said, "every mother in this room is _wetting her knickers _over him for their daughters."

Will looked around, unnerved, as everybody stared at them, then whispered something to their neighbours. He earned many strange looks as well, and he wondered whether they always reacted this way to a western guest at an Indian wedding.

It was only then that he realized that his drawstring pants were hanging down at his knees. He hurriedly went behind a table and pulled them up, tying the drawstring as tightly as he could.

When he rejoined the group: "Can we leave yet?" asked Kiran, sounding bored.

Will looked up gratefully. He too had been wanting to leave, but didn't want to sound rude by asking. "Yeah," he agreed, "It's about ten a.m. in New York and I wouldn't mind getting back a bit early so I can go through the hotel finances–"

"Will you stop working for once?" Balraj asked, sounding annoyed. "And you," he said, turning to Kiran, "stop being such a cobra. This is our dear, dear motherland."

A waiter came up to them, offering them a platter of some deep-fried snack.

Kiran refused, saying that she was on a diet, but Balraj took one. Will also took one after hesitating slightly.

"Are you sure this is safe to eat?" he asked. "I don't want to be getting Delhi belly on my first full day."

Balraj scoffed and assured him that it would be fine.

A bit later, he noticed Balraj looking up, and followed his gaze: he was looking at a pretty Indian girl in a pink dress who was leaning over the balcony. She happened to look down and noticed that Balraj was looking at her; she smiled shyly at him, then looked away.

Will's glance roved around the balcony; there were many girls there, no doubt helping the bride get ready. Then his gaze landed on another pretty Indian girl who had joined the girl who Balraj was looking at. The two girls were smiling and talking together; then the girl made some wild gestures with her hands before bursting into laughter. Will felt his own lips twitch upwards in a smile, even though he didn't know what was so funny. Just then, the girl looked straight down at him, and he looked away quickly, surveying the tables unseeingly, hoping that she hadn't noticed, though she probably had.

He chanced a glance up again, and she had looked away, seemingly having dismissed it. He sighed in relief, then watched as surreptitiously as he could (which wasn't very, considering the angle his neck had to be at to be looking up there).

He was not sure why he was watching this particular girl; sure, she was pretty, but so were a lot of them, really. There was something about her that captured his attention.

Then the girl and the others moved away from the balcony, going into an open door. The girl he had been watching turned around as an afterthought and closed the door, as if she knew he was watching.

-----


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I must've watched this movie at least ten times. Yes, I know I'm obsessed. But oh well. I just realized after writing a few chapters that Lalita has become a weird mix of me, her character in the movie and Mia Thermopolis from the Princess Diaries.

---------------**Three**---------------

Lalita helped the bride fasten her green sari in place. "Are you sure about going to London? You've only met him twice," she reminded her gently, smiling at her friend.

Namrata smiled and leaned back, apparently satisfied with her appearance. "I'm sure, Lalita. His family is nice and so is he. And I would love to go to London." Lalita smiled through her sadness that her friend was leaving and hugged her.

Just then, the strains of music that indicated the dance where the boys and girls in the wedding were to meet (they didn't talk to or go near the boys until this dance) came.

Lalita loved singing and dancing and just having fun. Laughing excitedly, she waited for the cue for the girls to go down the stairs.

-----

As the first strains of lively music arrived, Will looked to Balraj for an explanation, but he wasn't there. He turned to Kiran, who explained that the first song and dance was the one where the boys and girls would meet, and where the groom would see the bride for the first time that day. Will nodded, but couldn't help feeling uncomfortable as he noticed an oldish man in a turban with a grey beard listening in to their conversation.

Will looked around as all the young men in the crowd organized themselves into a formation and started singing. Balraj was at the front, standing out because of his black 'kurta'; all the others were wearing white. He was doing an energetic dance, moving his arms and legs about wildly. Amazingly, everybody was in time, doing the moves almost perfectly. Will deduced that it was probably a common dance at Indian weddings, and that these men had had a lot of practice. Or they were just all really good dancers.

Will listened to the song that they were singing, noticing that the foreign words were repeated quite a few times. He assumed that the language was Hindi, because Balraj knew Hindi. He looked to Kiran, and she translated, "All these pretty girls, fluttering about like kites without strings."

He nodded, then frowned in confusion. _What girls? _He had thought too soon: the girls just came down the staircase leading to the balcony. Then they joined the dance as well, and he noticed that the pretty girl he had been watching was in the front line with the girl in the pink dress.

For a few minutes, Will watched them dancing and singing; the song sounded quite pleasant. But then, the boys started singing alone again, and the song took an ominous, angry note. They pointed fingers of accusation at the girls, then one man came to the front and faked convulsions that racked his whole body before mock-fainting.

"These girls are like naked live wires; get too close and they'll sting you with their electric shock of love," translated Kiran, talking into his ear (the song was so loud that they would otherwise have had to yell to be heard). Then she noticed the man with the grey beard looking at them calculatingly and backed away quickly.

The song seemed to be drawing to a close. Balraj slung his arm around the groom's shoulders and started singing a song that was softer than the other one. A pretty girl dressed in light green came down the stairs surrounded by the other girls. Her jewellery was magnificent: gold earrings set with emeralds with a matching necklace, gold and green bangles on her wrists and tinkling anklets on her feet.

Balraj repeated the line of the song he was singing. Will looked curiously at Kiran and she translated again, "When the moon disappears, the light of your beauty takes its place." He nodded, watching.

The song drew to a close and everybody started talking. Suddenly, a hush fell and the crowd parted; one of the women who had been looking at Balraj before started singing and dancing on the stairs. Her singing was quite good, but maybe she should have left the dancing to somebody a bit younger. Quite a few people were clapping in time and Will grinned in amusement as a man – presumably the lady's husband – tried to pull her out of the spotlight.

Once she had finished singing, Balraj came over to them, his face flushed from excitement. Just as he came over, another song started, one of a different kind: this time, there were specific partners for each person, and Balraj had apparently asked the pretty girl in the pink dress to dance.

Also, he had seemed to know which dance was coming, and he had come over to pull Will there onto the dance floor and make him dance. Though he resisted, Will was dragged along by Balraj and his hands were placed firmly in those of the girl he had been watching before.

Will could feel heat creeping up his neck and looked back in vain for Balraj who was of course long gone. Then he turned back to the girl, who smiled at him and patiently positioned his hands in hers to that their arms were crossed and they were holding each other's right and left hands.

Then the dance began, and it was mainly them holding each other's hands and spinning in circles, leaning back, relying on each other's weight to keep them from toppling over backwards. A brief smile flashed across Will's face as he recalled vaguely that this dance was like a trust exercise he had done in summer camp once.

Then Will realized with a throb of horror that his drawstring pants were coming loose again. Releasing one hand, he pulled them up, trying to make it look like he was wiping his hands. The girl took this opportunity to brush a lock of dark hair out of her face with her free hand. This happened a few more times, and once the girl laughed out loud and Will flushed, thinking that she had realized what had happened to him and was making fun of him. But she smiled at him again, her eyes sparkling, and he decided that it was because she was enjoying the dance.

As soon as the song finished and the music faded, Will abruptly dropped the girl's hands, nodded briefly to her and hurried off, though most of the couples spent a few minutes making conversation before parting. He noticed the quickly shielded look of hurt on the girl's face and felt bad about it, but he had a more pressing problem to fix.

He went to a secluded corner and lifted up the front of his shirt so that he could see the drawstring he was fiddling with. Kiran and Balraj came over while he was doing it.

"Darcy," said Balraj, sounding highly amused, "what are you doing?"

Will didn't bother looking up, still toying with The Drawstring From Hell. "Drawstring keeps coming undone," he muttered.

Balraj's voice was filled with laughter. "Let's see," he said loudly.

Will finally looked up and noticed a random guy with a turban and a grey beard (not the same one who had been listening to their conversations) looking in with great amusement.

"Why don't you go alert the media?" Will said sarcastically, not at all amused (Balraj was laughing his head off).

-----

Lalita listened half-heartedly to her sister Maya complain about Lakhi. Inwardly, she was brooding about William Darcy. Why had he been so abrupt? Was she looking ugly? She looked in the mirror opposite the hall. No. Lalita didn't think herself particularly pretty, but she knew she wasn't horribly ugly. What was it, then? Were all Americans this rude? Or was it just Darcy?

"…do you know she's been on her phone all night, texting boys?" ranted Maya, oblivious that her sister's mind was elsewhere. "She'll give us all a bad name! Lakhi? Lakhi!" With that, Maya hurried off, presumably to tell Lakhi off and bring her back to their table.

Sure enough, Maya came back, with their parents and Lakhi a few minutes later. Jaya also joined them, smiling excitedly. She had enjoyed the dance with Balraj, and apparently, they had had fun talking and dancing.

Just then, Balraj, his sister and Darcy came over, Balraj smiling at Jaya. "Hello," he said, giving them a friendly smile. "We're from the groom's side; we'd like to introduce ourselves. I'm Balraj, and this–" he gestured to his sister –"is my sister, Kiran, and this is my good friend, William Darcy."

Kiran smiled at them politely and Darcy gave them a brief smile. Suddenly, he dipped down slightly and came back up again, as though his knees had buckled. Lalita stared at him, wondering what had happened. It might have been her imagination, but she thought his face was more flushed than before.

Her father smiled at them and shook Balraj's hand. "I'm Aman Bakshi, this is my wife, Manoba Bakshi and our four daughters: Chaya, Lalita, Maya and Lakhi," he finished, gesturing to each one, and reciting their names in age order.

"Good Lord," exclaimed Balraj, "four daughters in one family! God has blessed you four times over!"

Aman smiled in reply.

Darcy was staring at her in a weird way, and it was beginning to creep her out. Was there something on her face? His face was even more flushed now; Lalita was definitely not imagining it.

"Would you do me the honour?" Balraj asked Jaya, who smiled softly. Aman stood to let Jaya pass and Manoba was practically wetting her pants with glee at the fact that her daughter appeared to be snaring the rich Balraj.

"Darcy," said Balraj pointedly, "why don't you ask one of Jaya's lovely sisters to dance?"

Darcy's eyes widened, and he looked at her. "No," he said flatly, then hastily amended, "I mean, I can't. I just got a conference call; I have to get back to work."

Lalita gave him a small smile. "It's not as difficult as it looks," she said, wondering if he was apprehensive about dancing because he didn't know how. "I could show you."

"No – I really can't. Nice – nice to meet you all." With that, he was gone.

As soon as he was out of earshot, her mother said, sounding annoyed, "What does he think? That we are not good enough for him?"

Lalita chewed thoughtfully on a laddoo, an Indian sweet. It all came back to the ultimate question: were all Americans rude, or was it just Darcy?

Though the answer was a lot more simple, however. If Lalita had looked at him when he was walking away, she would have seen him angrily pull up his pants.

-----

A/N: Do you know what the funniest part is? The whole pants-falling-down scenario actually happened in the movie. I'm stupid, so I only picked it up in the fourth viewing.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I wrote this at my cousin's house, so I did Darcy's and Lalita's argument entirely from memory and the breakfast table conversation as well, so don't kill me if some of it's wrong.

And also, sorry that this chapter was so late in coming. I had written most of it up, then my computer froze and I had to type it all again. On top of that, it's been pretty busy here. So I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

I wonder if anyone actually reads author's notes. If you don't, I might leave a boring surprise for you in them that you won't regret missing.

I don't edit my AN's at all, you know. They probably wouldn't make sense at all if I actually read them.

Oh, and this chapter's pretty long by my standards; I just couldn't work out where to end it, so it goes on.

---------------**Four**---------------

The next morning, the family all woke up bright and early, for today was the actual wedding. Right now, the family was eating breakfast, talking merrily about the wedding, until…

"Did you see Mrs Lamba's face?" crowed their mother. "Balraj didn't dance with any other girl all night! I knew he wouldn't be able to resist my pretty Jaya's charm." She smiled at the eldest daughter. "Imagine what it would be like to have Jaya living in UK," she said blissfully. "We could visit her there anytime we wanted!"

Their father frowned, finally looking up from his breakfast. "I would hate to have my daughters living so far away."

Their mother waved it aside. "But we have so many!" she argued. "Surely one or two can go live abroad. They'll earn more. God knows, they'll need it, because we can't afford to give them all decent dowries."

Lalita sighed wearily. She knew what was coming next. She had heard this tirade a thousand times.

"I knew we should have moved to US when we had the chance!" said their mother.

"Did I ever tell you," said their father to the girls, "about a man who moved to America and made a lot of money?"

"My brother got all the papers to sponsor us, but no, you wouldn't move, old man!" continued their mother.

"And he built this big American house, with three swimming pools in the garden," continued their father, ignoring their mother.

"And now he owns three Subway franchises in New Jersey, and what do we have?" said their mother furiously. "An old house, an old farm and new bills!" Lalita saw Lakhi mouthing the words along with her mother and fought back a laugh.

"When his father visited him from India, he asked, 'Son, why are there three pools?'" their father told. "The son said, 'Well, one pool is filled with cold water for when I'm hot, and one with hot water for when I'm cold.' The father nodded, then asked, 'Yes, but why the third pool?' The son replied proudly, 'That's for when I don't feel like swimming at all!'"

Everybody laughed except for their mother who gave a sarcastic laugh and sat down in a huff. Then she smiled at Jaya. "Did you see Balraj's sister's sari looked so expensive. I heard it was made by the same designer who made a dress for Princess Diana!" Their mother gave a delighted laugh while Lalita rolled her eyes. "That's who'll be making Jaya's wedding dress!" Jaya smiled and hugged her happily.

Their mother smiled. "Balraj is a gift from the gods," she sighed; but then her face darkened. "His Yankee friend could learn a lot from him. Did you see the way he slighted our Lalita?"

Lalita raised one eyebrow slightly and gave a barely perceptible sigh.

-----

Will and Balraj were standing on the balcony of their hotel room, looking out at the view. The city was, if possible, even more busy than when Will first saw it. There were people hurrying to get to their various destinations on scooters, bicycles and auto-rickshaws. It was rare to see a car, for it was easier to go on the road on a smaller vehicle.

"There's something I don't get," said Will. "If you _really _want to get married, why don't you hook up with some Indian girl from England or even America? At least you'd have something in common."

Balraj turned to look at him. "Look, I didn't have any problems talking with Jaya, did I? She's intelligent… she's beautiful…" Balraj's face was shining and Will could tell that he really liked Jaya.

"Come on, Bal," he said resignedly. "You said it yourself, man, we're in Hicksville, India."

Balraj smiled slyly and said, "Then why did I see you eyeing up Lalita?"

Will froze for a second, fighting down his blush – had he been that obvious? – and slowly turned around.

"She's beautiful, yeah… but…"

Balraj laughed. "But not your mother's idea of an heiress?"

Will laughed suddenly. "Not exactly, no," he admitted.

-----

Lalita sat, cross-legged on the floor, watching with a smile as the priests poured offerings in the ceremonial fire, chanting verses. Everybody was sitting silently, watching them pour in ghee and rice.

They were sitting with the bride's side on one side of the fire, and the groom's friends and family were sitting on the other side.

Lalita happened to look at the groom's side and saw Will Darcy looking at her. When he realized she had seen him, he gave her a small smile. Her cheerful smile dropped. Still smarting from yesterday, she looked away coldly and pretended she hadn't seen him.

She remained expressionless for the rest of the ceremony.

-----

Lalita and Chandra were watching the festivities from the balcony, where they had a good view of everyone. Lalita had danced with several different guys, and now she was taking a brief break from the action.

"They look sizzling, no?" said Chandra, gesturing towards Jaya and Balraj who were dancing together. "She should seduce him… give him a taste, so he'll come begging back for more!"

Lalita laughed. "And what makes you such an expert, hmm?"

Chandra smiled slyly. "I know enough to know that if that damn cute Darcy was looking at _me_ the way he's looking at you right now, I wouldn't ignore him."

Lalita followed Chandra's eyes, and sure enough, Darcy was looking up at her.

"You're nuts," she said firmly to Chandra. Darcy didn't like her; he had made that clear enough already. And also, an adjective like _cute_ should only be used on kittens, puppies and little children.

Darcy was undeniably good-looking, but he just wasn't her type, and she wasn't his either, judging by the way he had treated her so far.

She looked down at Darcy again, and saw him move to the door that led to the stairs up to the balcony.

"Oh God, is he coming up here?" she muttered, almost to herself.

"Lalita?"

"Mmm?"

"Marry him." Lalita looked at her friend incredulously, then saw her mischievous smile. "Divorce him right away," she continued, still smiling in that way. "Then give me half!"

The two girls burst out laughing, and were still laughing when Darcy came up to them about a second later.

"It's not my tie, is it?" he asked uncertainly, straightening it though it was already immaculate. Then he sneezed suddenly and muttered, "Excuse me."

Chandra said, "Someone's thinking of you. I'm off to get a Coke!" She left, smiling and waggling her eyebrows suggestively at Lalita.

There was a slightly awkward pause as Lalita looked to where Chandra had been with a very obvious 'thanks a lot for leaving me here' look on her face. Then she went back to leaning over the balcony and Darcy joined her.

"What did she say?" he asked, looking a bit baffled.

"It's just an old saying," explained Lalita. "We say that if you sneeze, it means someone's thinking of you."

He nodded, then said, "It's probably my lawyer. Can't get any work done in the hotel I'm in."

"Which hotel's that?" asked Lalita curiously.

"The D.N. International," he replied.

"That's the best hotel in town," she said, wondering what problems he could have encountered there.

"Oh," he said, then continued, "but their computer system keeps crashing, the electricity goes… I guess I don't really know how business functions here."

There was an awkward silence, then Lalita asked, making a brave stab at conversation, "Are you a barrister like Balraj?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, my family's in the hotel business."

"I'm sure Amritsar's hotels can't compare," she said sarcastically. "But I bet there's a _slight _price difference. What does it cost to stay in one of your hotels?"

Darcy frowned slightly, as if thinking. "For a room for four… about… five hundred dollars a night."

Lalita gave a half-gasp, half-laugh. "That's more than what most people earn here in a year!"

Darcy shrugged. "Pretty bad when you put it like that; but people who can afford it, they want the best –" he turned and saw the look on her face and said, half-joking (though there was something slightly defensive in his tone as well) –"What, there's nothing wrong with having standards, is there?"

Lalita sniffed. "No," she said, "as long as you don't enforce them on others." She looked away from Darcy to see the dancing couples below.

"This is your first Indian wedding, right?" she asked, a little later, once she had managed to swallow most of her ire.

Darcy seemed to snap back to earth and answered, "Yeah." After a pause, he added tactfully, "It's been an experience."

She frowned slightly. "You're – not enjoying it?"

"No, no, I am; I just find the whole arranged marriage thing a little strange and I don't really know how two people can get married when they don't really know each other." He looked at her and said, letting out a deep breath, "Seems a little backward, don't you think?"

Lalita snorted. "That is such a cliché! It's different now. It's more like a global dating service. The groom looks happy. Did his parents force him into it?"

Darcy looked taken aback by her reply. "No, actually, he asked his parents to find him a bride. He was busy running his company, so he just wanted it to be simple."

Lalita looked at him, and now she knew her cheeks were red from not a little anger. "I see, and so he came here," she snapped. "Is that what you think too? That India's the place for simple women?" She gave a disgusted sigh and walked away from Darcy, down the stairs.

-----

"Lalita, wait! That's not what I meant!" Will hurried down the stairs, trying to keep pace with her.

She had her arms crossed and was frowning. "Americans think they have the answers to everything," she fumed, "including marriage. Pretty arrogant, considering they have the highest divorce rate in the world!" She was walking down the stairs quite fast while she was saying all this.

Ouch. That stung. Pity it was true. By now they had reached the bottom of the stairs. "The groom just wanted his wedding to be traditional!" he said, trying to defend himself.

Will was about to apologize when Balraj came up to him. "Darcy, stop boring her to death and get down here with us!"

He walked back to the dance floor.

"Look, Lalita," said Will a bit awkwardly, hoping to patch things up with her. "I'm a hopeless dancer, but this looks like you screw in a lightbulb with one hand and pet the dog with the other." He let out a deep breath. "Will you teach me?"

Lalita leaned closer to him. "You know what?" she asked in barely more than a whisper.

Will's eyes widened, but then she snapped, "I think you should find someone _simple_ and _traditional_ to teach you to dance like the natives." With that, she stalked away.

-----

A/N: Rejection music plays Nothing I say can make that more dramatic.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter is pretty short, only about a thousand words, but it took me ages to write. I must've rewritten it at least five times. Stupid author's block. But then I watched 'Bride and Prejudice' again and I got back my lost muses. They're called Gertrude and Hubert. They ran away. But now they're back. So yeah. Just read. And review. Yeah.

---------------**Five**---------------

Will had tried a few times to approach Lalita, to apologize, explain himself, something, but each time she saw him coming towards her, she would quickly go and lose herself in the crowd to avoid him. After this happened three times, Will gave up and just watched people dancing for the rest of the night.

So he was really quite glad when it was time for them to go. Balraj walked outside with Jaya, Lalita's older sister. Will was standing next to a pillar with Kiran; they were both waiting to leave.

Just then, Jaya's family joined them.

"Mr Bakshi," said Balraj, "we're all going down to Goa tomorrow; Darcy's looking at a hotel there and we'd love for Jaya to join us."

Mr Bakshi smiled politely, then said, frowning slightly, "Mr Balraj, I'm not sure if it would be appropriate for Jaya to go alone."

"Of course. I understand," said Balraj.

"Don't be silly, dear," said Mrs Bakshi, smiling at her husband in a strained way. She turned to Balraj. "So kind of you to invite Jaya!" Her voice was dripping with honey.

"Perhaps one of her sisters can accompany her," suggested Mr Bakshi.

"Papa, I can go to Goa," said the girl Will recognized as the youngest. She was called… Lakhi, he was sure.

"Lakhi, you're too young," said their father kindly. "Perhaps Lalita can go."

Lalita started at the mention of her name and flicked a quick glance at Will before turning back to her father. "But, Papa –" she began, but was cut off by her mother.

"Don't be silly, Lalita," she said, shooting daggers at her before smiling again. "Go have fun with your sister." Will noted the mother's eagerness to send her eldest daughter off to Goa and frowned slightly.

Lalita turned to look at Jaya, who had a hopeful look on her face. She sighed in resignation, then smiled. "Sure," she said, hugging her sister. "I'd love to come with Jaya."

"Excellent," said Balraj, "we'll pick them up tomorrow morning."

Lalita gave Will an inscrutable look before he walked away. Will was almost positive he heard Mrs Bakshi say, "Have you gone crazy, old man? This is Jaya's chance to win him over once and for all. And he'll get to see her in a swimsuit!"

His frown deepened. He didn't want Balraj to be stuck with a gold-digging wife who just wanted him for his money. For now, he decided he would watch and wait, and when he was sure that Jaya only wanted the cash, then he would step in.

And as for Lalita coming on their holiday… he felt weird about that. He couldn't figure out if he wanted her to come or was apprehensive about it.

-----

The next morning, the car was a bit squashed, because there were five of them and the driver in a five seater car. The driver and Kiran sat in the front, and the other four were squashed in the back.

Lalita sighed. Someone up there hated her. She was squashed into – guess who? – one William Darcy. They hadn't really spoken after their little tiff yesterday. Of course, Darcy seemed to be making an obvious effort to be polite to her.

He had opened the car door for her, but had quailed at the glare she gave him. She was independent, dammit! She could open doors herself, believe it or not.

But then a short while after that, she felt a little bit guilty for being so short with him: after all, he had only been trying to help. He wore an expression of hurt bewilderment whenever he looked at her. She had given him a small smile by way of apology and he seemed to perk up a bit after that.

Anyway, the thing about squashing four people into seats meant for three… well, it's squashed. Balraj was seated by the left window, then Jaya, then Lalita, then Darcy. Being squashed into Jaya was not so bad, but being squashed into Darcy was… awkward.

Balraj and Jaya seemed quite comfortable, but then, they got along really well.

It was really squashed. Maybe you can't quite get an idea of exactly _how _squashed they were without a bit more description. Thighs jammed together, arms everywhere, shoulders clashing.

After about ten minutes of this, they decided that they couldn't last the entire drive to Goa in this way. Balraj suggested (while smiling slyly at Darcy for some reason) that the girls sit on the guys' laps.

Darcy seemed flustered and his face was flushed; Lalita herself was not too keen about the prospect of sitting on his lap, because she knew Balraj and Jaya would automatically pair up. She could feel her face heating up. She hurriedly pointed out that if Jaya sat on Balraj's lap, then there would be enough room for the other three to sit comfortably.

A mixture of intense relief and something that might have been disappointment showed on Darcy's face, but Lalita was sure she'd imagined the disappointment.

-----

Again, Will was confused. There were a lot of conflicting emotions. When Balraj had suggested that Lalita sit on his lap, he had felt mostly embarrassment and awkwardness. But a small part of him had felt like he actually _wanted_ Lalita to sit on his lap.

After four hours of contemplation (until they reached Goa), he had dismissed it, and reasoned that Lalita was a beautiful girl what with her almond-shaped eyes, smooth complexion, full lips, long dark hair and slim figure (he could have gone on, but he stopped himself). Of course he would want a beautiful girl to sit on his lap. He _was _male, after all.

-----

Lalita looked around. She had been to Goa once before, but she had been about three years old then, and didn't remember much about it.

Goa was a Portuguese settlement, so there were more westerners holidaying there than you would find in most other parts of India. There were sparkling blue pools, smooth beaches, palm trees and the ocean. It was beautiful, but in a completely different way to Amritsar.

When they first went into the hotel, women in saris came up to them and garlanded them, blessing them and putting marks on their foreheads. Lalita suspected that they were only getting VIP treatment because Darcy was thinking of buying the hotel.

She sighed and wondered when this trip would be over.

-----

A/N: The next bit will be hard to write, so expect an update in… about three or four days? Yeah… if I can get it done by then.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sooooo sorry for the long wait, people. The worst thing is, I really don't have any excuse except… I had a bad case of author's block.

Anyway, people who have watched the movie, a question for you: You know when Darcy goes, "I'm not British, I'm American."? What does Lalita say before it? "I don't you turning India into a theme park. I thought we got rid of ... like you!" I've listened to it a million times, but I could never get what she said. If anyone knows, can you please review and tell me?

Thanks. Now read. You know you want to… well, actually you probably don't. But read anyway. And review. Yes, review. Reviews make me feel warm and happy inside.

**A/N2:** Thanks a lot to the Mouse in the Opera House for telling me the answer to the question above. (Answer: 'imperialists').

---------------**Six**---------------

After a delicious lunch, they all lazed about around the pool, swimming after an hour had passed since the meal. Lalita didn't really have anyone to talk to, since Jaya and Balraj spent all their time together. She, Kiran and Darcy all kept mostly to themselves, or grouped together, the three extra wheels.

When she was five, Lalita had loved going for long walks around their farm, so she had set out everyday to explore. She was friendly with all of the workers, and knew them all personally. One day, she had stumbled upon a pool of clear water into which the river flowed in and out. She often swum there still and had taught herself to swim.

Needless to say, she won every race that the five – or sometimes, three – of them held that day. After a while, she got bored of swimming around. A luke-warm, chlorine-filled, torpid swimming pool just wasn't as exciting as a rushing, moving cool mass of water with trees and plants surrounding it and little fish swimming around. Also, Darcy and Kiran had already gotten out of the water, tired of her winning every race they held.

She climbed out of the pool and dried herself off a bit with her towel, so she wouldn't drip on the book she wanted to read. She pulled out her copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ and had started rereading when Kiran said lazily, "Darcy darling, could you tear yourself away from the love of your life long enough to put some sunscreen on my back? I don't want my skin to get too dark."

Darcy set aside his laptop and squeezed some sunscreen on his hands. "I'm writing to my little sister, Georgie," he defended.

Kiran turned so that her back was facing Darcy and she spotted Lalita reading. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed incredulously. "You lugged that all the way here? Well, that explains why you don't have much room for outfits."

Lalita barely looked up from her book, turning over the page. "Do you have something against books? And you just resent them because they leave less room in your bag for your make-up?" She looked up to see how Kiran would react.

She looked taken aback and said rather defensively, "No; I just never have time for them. Indians here have a lot more free time, you know."

Lalita, who had been about to go back to reading, looked up sharply. "Or maybe you're just a much more accomplished woman than I am," finished Kiran huffily.

"Maybe," she replied mysteriously, going back to her book. She heard Darcy laugh; he had been watching their minor disagreement with amusement.

Suddenly, she stifled a laugh. She had just realized that there was a rich snob called William Darcy in _Pride and Prejudice_. And the heroine, Elizabeth, hated him. Well, she did at the start. At the end, she fell in love with him. Damn. The beginning at least seemed like the story of her life.

"Darcy's a great reader," said Kiran loudly, making Lalita look up slightly. "In fact, I think a love of books is on his list for his ideal woman." She said the last very deliberately. Lalita slipped her bookmark in her book. It seemed like Kiran would take torturing Darcy over insulting Lalita; this looked to be interesting.

"I think you've had one too many seabreezes," Darcy retorted.

Kiran continued, oblivious to his warning glare. "No, I clearly recall a very drunken night in Oxford where you recited this list. I repeat, she had to be smart, speak several languages," Kiran gestured to Lalita, "be graceful, witty, oh and voluptuous, of course, athletic –" Here, another meaningful look was sent to Lalita.

"Kiran, would you drop it?" asked Darcy, sounding weary and annoyed. It might have been the fact that he was sunburnt pretty much all over or more likely that he was uncomfortable with the topic. Or it could have been a mixture of both.

Lalita said loftily, addressing Kiran, "I'm not surprised Mr Darcy hasn't found his ideal woman with a list like that," she paused, directing the last at him, "or maybe his standards are too high."

Darcy pulled his laptop back on his lap. "Touché," he said, sounding partially amused.

"Does this mean you're an ideal man?" Lalita asked sarcastically.

Darcy looked at her. "Well, I guess you'd be a better judge of that than me," he replied, completely missing the sarcasm.

Lalita rolled her eyes. "Well, I haven't as yet met one," she said, as if that should be obvious. "As far as I can tell, most men have faults: arrogance, pride, vanity…" She looked pointedly at Darcy.

Kiran, who had been watching this exchange with high amusement, laughed, "She's certainly read you like a book, Darcy!"

"No," said Darcy, shutting the lid of his laptop and putting it aside, turning to face her fully. "I think you've got me all wrong."

Lalita ignored him and continued, "Well, you'd certainly have trouble finding your ideal woman in India. Women here are of the _simple_, _traditional,_ _subservient_ type."

Darcy leaned back in his chair and wearily raked his fingers through his hair. "Oh, come on," he muttered. "Gimme a break. Now you're twisting my words."

Lalita continued in that same lofty tone, "You said it yourself, Mr Darcy. I'm sure you think India's beneath you."

"If I really thought that, then why would I be thinking of buying this place?" he pointed out, sitting up straight and observing her.

Turning completely serious, Lalita spluttered incredulously, gesturing around her at the swimming pool, the palm trees and the sparkly hotel, "You think this is India?"

Darcy frowned slightly as if in puzzlement. "Well, don't you want to see more investment, more jobs?"

"Yes," she asserted impatiently, "but who does it really benefit?" At this point, Jaya and Balraj swam over to them, looking slightly concerned and quite puzzled. "Isn't this what all tourists want when they come to India? Five-star accommodation with a bit of culture thrown in? You want people to go to India without having to deal with Indians!"

Darcy considered thoughtfully what she had said. "That's good," he said, referring to her last sentence. "Remind me to put that on the tourism brochure." The fact that he said it completely seriously, without a trace of jocularity just made Lalita's blood boil more.

As he noticed her glaring at him, he said defensively, "What? _Your _government wants the tourism; I'm not the bad guy here!"

Her eyes narrowed to slits, Lalita hissed, "I don't want you turning India into a theme park. I thought we got rid of imperialists like you!"

Darcy actually grinned. "I'm not British," he said. "I'm American."

If looks could have killed just then, Darcy would have been six feet under. "Exactly," she said, and stormed off.

-----

Will watched as she stormed away, wondering what exactly he had said now that was so offensive to her. Why was it that he always seemed to say the wrong thing? Was he really as insensitive as she evidently thought him to be or was she just overly sensitive?

He followed after her, intending to apologize or _something,_ but she turned around and gave him such a glare that he quailed and decided to give her some Alone Time.

-----

A/N: I was inspired by this movie to read _Pride and Prejudice_, by Jane Austen (it's so sad, I know; I hadn't read it before), and I thought it was a really good book. A bit slow in some places, but otherwise really good. Lalita in the movie is exactly like the character she's based on, but I thought Darcy was a lot different in some ways. And Kholi's definitely funnier in the movie. The mom is exactly the same.

But enough of that. It was a _really_ good book, _read it!_ Rant over now. I want to do a survey: How many people have read _Pride and Prejudice_ before they saw the movie? How many hadn't when they saw the movie? Review with whatever is you. Did that make sense?


End file.
